


Eridan is pretty sure he did the right thing in the end.

by Ampurrwr1t3sm3d1ocr3stuff



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, I'm not completely sorry, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ampurrwr1t3sm3d1ocr3stuff/pseuds/Ampurrwr1t3sm3d1ocr3stuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's forgotten you. You really can't blame them anymore, you screwed yourself over with the little stunt back on the meteor. You, Eridan Ampora, knocked out one troll, effectively culled another, and took yet another down only to be taken down yourself by the same troll.<br/>~~~~~~<br/>Boop I did a thing. Sorry not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eridan is pretty sure he did the right thing in the end.

Everyone's forgotten you. You really can't blame them anymore, you screwed yourself over with the little stunt back on the meteor. You, Eridan Ampora, knocked out one troll, effectively culled another, and took yet another down only to be taken down yourself by the same troll.  
You, Eridan Ampora, the hopeless, quadrantless idiot.   
Your ancestor would be so proud of you, wouldn't he? You at least managed to make a bubble that only a few trolls could guess the password, albeit after some trying. Exactly what you wanted. It was a small locked bubble of your hive and some beach. No water, you could crawl away to some community bubble and stay off to the side. Not like you'd be pestered much.   
So this is what isolation feels like.   
You're pretty sure no one would come running if you took yourself down, hell, some would dance on your grave. Some probably did the first time you died. You go over every way to take yourself down, you're pretty sure a ghost can die a second time.  
Speaking of isolation, it certainly isn't a new feeling. Neither is being alone. You're used to it. You grew up for the most part alone anyways. And your planet was a disaster, no one ever wanted to come over because of the angels. No one offered to help.   
Not like you needed it.  
You are a highblood- no a sea dweller. So much better than all of them. All of them except her. She was your entire life at one point. Now she never wants to see you again. She doesn't want to be anywhere near you, she doesn't want to have anything to do with you.  
You're dead to her.  
You think that's what hurts you the most. That you were so close, she made you smile and you made her smile back, and now whenever you walk near her she tunes you out. You think that's what makes you cry the hardest when you're alone.  
She went from making you happy and smile and feel elated to. To feeling unwanted and cry and feel down at all times. What did you do to deserve this?  
Well, truth be told, you fucked almost everything up. You didn't know any better. You just wanted someone to be there for you, so you tried to prove your worth, tried to become someone who would be remembered as something more than a screw up, a mess of a troll.  
You sure messed that up.  
You're actually curious as to what would happen if you took suicide. For science. You aren't a coward, you're a strong troll who's time has come and gone. A troll who isn't needed anymore.  
Right?  
Right.  
You decide to dig around for something that would lead to a quick death with little blood to leave. Maybe a pistol? But how do you obtain such an object? You just have your crosshair's, a large gun that you'd never be able to use for taking yourself down.  
You could always ask around.  
But they'd get suspicious. Fuck. You just want to die, really. You've come to believe if you do in fact take yourself out, you'll be erased from existence. There's tons of versions of you anyways, no one would really care. A lot of them are much more wanted than you.  
You decide to borrow a sickle from a Karkat, not yours, and cut yourself up, mangle up your walking corpse and bleed out. Yeah, you'll just do that.  
When you do return to your bubble your hands are a little shaky, but it'll fade away. Just like you. You head up to the abulation block and sit in the trap, fully clothed. You take the handle firmly in your hand, running the curved blade up and down your arms, violet slowly getting everywhere. It stings as the blade cuts through your shirt and then your skin, blood bubbling up in beads and rolling into the bottom of your sleeve.  
You deserve the pain.  
You deserve every last cut and tear.  
You really do.  
At least you think you do.  
No, you know you do.  
You cut up and down your arms, coating them in violet and bleeding cuts. Your breath is shaky and coming out unevenly when you hear something. It's a knock. Weird. You shift and hold your breath as the knocking continues. You lower the blade and rest against the back of the tub. Your sight is blotching up in black as you hear a crack. Another crack. Then pounding of shoes on the wood of your hive.  
When your eyes do finally cloud over, a glaze covering them that isn't like your second eyelids, you see a figure at the door. He looks panicked and rushes to your side. Your fins flick up, a tiny twitch, and you hear him speak. You can't understand it, though, you're too far gone. He's panicking and crying and flipping out in general.  
Your eyes slowly slip close and you fade. You have the smallest smirk on your lips as you do leave, and you feel good. Great even. You haven't felt this nice in sweeps. You must've done the right thing, huh?


End file.
